


Extracurricular Adventures

by dresca



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Aphrodisiacs, Body Horror, Breast Expansion, Dehumanization, Filming, Gags, Humiliation, Lactation, Multiple Penetration, Nipple Play, Objectification, Other, Oviposition, Power Imbalance, Sex Magic, Stomach Bulge, Tentacles, Voyeurism, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-22 22:59:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14318952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dresca/pseuds/dresca
Summary: When Hermione volunteers to help Madame Sprout with a special project, she doesn't realize just how involved it would be.





	Extracurricular Adventures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KeenWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeenWolf/gifts).



“Ah, wonderful, Miss Granger. Right on time,” Madame Sprout says as she ushers Hermione through the greenhouse doors, locking the doors behind her.

“Professor McGonagall said you requested my help with a special project?” Hermione says as she looks around the greenhouse curiously. Immediately she’s hit by a wave of humidity, her robes sticking to her uncomfortably. Despite the fact that the sun had set hours ago, the space is bright with artificial sunlight and the worktables normally covered in planters are practically bowing under a mass of black vines ranging from thinker than Hermione’s waist to thinner than a quill.

“Yes, dearie. I think you’ll find this a very enjoyable lesson. Come, tell me if you recognize this plant?” 

“Is this Devil’s Snare?” Hermione asks walks towards the tables, taking care not to touch it.

“Very good, Miss Granger. What can you tell me about it?” 

Hermione struggles to remember what she’d read about them, certain that it was in her extracurricular reading, not in her assigned reading. “They prefer a dark damp environment and are native to Scotland, often found in caves along the coast. They constrict around anything that touches it, and the more someone struggles the tighter they’re constrict. They were once believed to be carnivorous due to this, but it was later revealed to be purely defensive in nature.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor. You must have been reading _Goshawk's Guide to Herbology_. Slightly outdated, but mostly correct. What do you know of how Devil’s Snare reproduces?” 

“I don’t believe I read anything about that. Is it very different from how most plants reproduce?” Hermione asks, eager to learn. 

“Not unexpected. And yes, quite different. We’ve covered both sexual and asexual reproduction extensively. Devil’s Snare does not quite fit into either category. While it does not need another of its kind to reproduce, it does need a host to provide the necessary environment for its seedlings to flourish. While it has not been proven yet, it’s been hypothesized that the seedlings take something of their host with them, benefiting from the host’s intelligence. And you Miss Granger are by far the smartest young witch I know.” 

Hermione isn’t certain she understands what Madame Sprout is saying, not even when she’s shoved forward onto the mass of vines, and the lights go out. She screams as the vines immediately envelop her, constricting tighter and tighter around her the more she struggles. Think, she just had to think. They had a weakness—fire! She needs fire. She’s trying to remember the words for a spell for fire, when her wand is plucked from her hand.

“You won’t be needing that.” 

With Hermione’s only defense taking from her, tears steam down her face. Why is this happening? What had she done? No, she’s smarter than this. She just needs to—Relax! She just needs to relax and they’ll let her go. Drawing a shuddery breath, Hermione forces her muscles to unclench, but when the vines don’t let her go and instead starts moving beneath her clothes, Hermione begins to struggle again.

“Struggle or don’t struggle, it won’t let you go. Not now that it’s found the perfect host and being so full of seeds as it is.” 

Hermione can barely see Madame Sprout through in the darkness. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

“Now, now. You’re a smart young witch. Don’t go blaming me. You wanted to learn. This is a very educational lesson. Just enjoy yourself, dearie, I’ll be taking notes and filming the whole thing to review and share with the herbology community when I release my findings. Now let’s get those clothes out of the way.” A flick of her wand leaves Hermione naked.

“Plea—” Hermione’s words are cut off as a five centimeter wide vine shoves itself into her open mouth, forcing her jaw wide, pressing her tongue down, and nudging at the back of her throat, causing her to gag. When it begins to leak a thick, sweet nectar, Hermione has no choice but to swallow or choke. She swallows the copious amount of fluid as she struggles to breathe. When it finally stops, Hermione shivers at the strange heat growing in her belly as the fear fades. 

Small vines encircled her small, erect nipples, pulling them away from her body, giving her normally flat chest some semblance of cone shaped breasts. Even smaller vines worm their way into her nipples, stimulating her immature milk ducts.

“Hmm, I’ve never seen that before,” Madame Sprout says, the sound of her quill scratching against parchment echoing in the room.

Hermione’s back arches, uncertain what she’s feeling, if this new sensation is more pleasure than pain. She shivers violently as the vines caress her, touching her in places she’s never been touched, whimpering when some wrap around her legs and force her thighs to spread wide. 

“Look at you leaking so much already. I knew you’d be perfect for this.” 

Hermione isn’t certain how Madame Sprout can see her in the darkness, but she’s certain that’s she’s practically glowing red in embarrassment. She jerk in surprise and groans when small vines converge between her wide stretched legs. One encircles her clitoris, tightening and tugging, causing her thighs to flex. Another probes at her urethra, while more congregate lower, exploring her vulva, spreading her labia further apart. 

Hermione is far from stupid; she knows what sex is, but she knows that this is wrong, that this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. 

Trembling violently, Hermione actually finds herself grateful for the secure hold the vines have on her, certain she’d shake apart otherwise. The fluid that she feels dripping down her thighs makes her want to close her thigh in shame, but she’s never felt like this before. There’s a throbbing heat between her legs, muscles that she’d never been aware of clenching. When a mass of them presses into her, tearing through her hymen, her back tries to arch against the vines’ hold on her, the tentacle in her mouth barely muffling her scream. 

It’s not pain she feel as the tentacles unerringly massage and writhe against a spot in her that causes her toes to curl and more fluid to drip down her thighs. There’s a fire in her belly that keeps growing, and Hermione is certain she’s going to die. She’s going to explode into pieces, she’s going to—she doesn’t make a sound as she shatters, every muscle in her body tensing before she convulses around the vines within her. 

The Devil’s Snare never stop its exploration of Hermione’s nipples, still tugging them as they explore beneath the skin. The vine on her clit yanks hard enough to draw a yelp from her. As suddenly as they filled her, Hermione suddenly finds them gone, and she whimpers, hating the empty feeling, wanting to be filled again. 

“Oh my, it doesn’t normally start with such a big one. You truly are exceptional, Miss Granger.”

Hermione’s eyes have finally adjusted to the darkness, and she can barely make out the shape of the thick vine rise between her legs, larger than the one filling her mouth. She’s certain it will never fit, not even with the way the smaller vines suddenly reappear to hold her open, but she wants it, wants to be filled, wants to be bred. 

Shaking her head, Hermione is certain that’s wrong, she shouldn’t want that, shouldn’t want this. She’s helpless to do anything except take it as the thick tendril pushes into her. Even slick and stretched as she is, it’s a tight fit, her labia practically pulled into her body with the stain of being filled so full. She yelp then goes boneless, feeling a strange pinch inside her and then a new spreading heat. 

It ripples within her, rhythmically contracting and expanding. Hermione doesn’t understand what’s happening at first, not until she starts to feel bloated, not until she’s certain she can see her stomach starting to swell in the darkness. It’s depositing its seeds in her! 

A sudden growing pressure against her entrance has her try to spread her legs wider, but she’s already doing the splits midair. The pressure grows and grows, and just when Hermione is certain that she’ll rip, Madame Sprout speak.

“Oh my. That’s a big one. Here, just let me—”

Hermione can’t make out the words of the spell, but she swears she feels her bones shift, her pelvis spreading to let the seed in. Tears of shame leak from her eyes as she sudden pees herself, the pressure on her bladder from within suddenly too much.

The vines seemed to take that as some sort of cue and suddenly she feels one press against her exposed and untouched anus. No, it won’t fi—Naturally smooth and slick with its own lubricant, Hermione’s body stands no change against the large intruder. Another small tentacle presses against her urethra, and she shakes her head in denial. Not there, no—. 

The Devil’s Snare shows Hermione just how little she knows of her own body, how much she can take, how far she can stretch. The sound she makes it high pitched and broken. It burns, but it’s the most amazing thing that Hermione has ever felt. 

Hermione isn’t sure how many long she’s pumped full of seeds, how many orgasms are pulled from her, but she’s floating in a sea of pleasure the likes of which she’d never thought possible when the tentacles all pull out of her. 

“Oh, now comes the fun part.” 

Immediately pulled from her fog, Hermione looks towards Madame Sprout, wide eyed.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, my dear. The night is still young, and the seeds need to be fertilized.” 

Hermione shouts as she’s descended upon by a more tentacles. They fuck into her forcefully, two, three, four, sometimes more at a time, spreading her wider than before, whatever spell Madame Sprout had cast on her, allowing her to stretch impossibly without damage. Even the one that had been content to rest within her mouth, thrusts itself down her throat.

“Oh, what a pretty picture you make, eyes rolling back in your head as your choke. I expected great things for you, but seeing you so full… it’s obscene.”

The tentacles thrust deep, stirring up the eggs, pressing up against the tautly stretched skin of Hermione’s belly. The lack of air somehow makes the pleasure greater, heartbeat echoing in her head, blood racing through her veins until she peaks and convulses in the vines’ hold before falling unconscious. 

 

When Hermione wakes it’s in increments. The first thing she notices is that her nipples hurt and that her chest feel strangely tender and full. The next is that there is a pleasant throbbing ache between her thighs. It’s the peculiar movement in her stomach that has her eyes snapping opening wide, struggling to sit up. Only she finds that she’s already upright. The room is bright with sun, the Devil’s Snare still holding her, binding her legs and arms behind her as she hangs from where it’s draped over a conveniently placed hook in the greenhouse ceiling. 

Looking down past her now hugely swollen breasts to her even more hugely swollen stomach, Hermione screams. 

“Ah, Miss Granger, finally awake I see. I’ve never seen a Devil’s Snare enjoy a host for so long.” Reaching up, she pinches and tugs at Hermione’s nipples, releasing spurts of milk. “Full already. Looks like I’ll have to get the milker out.” 

“Madame Sprout, please you’ve got to let me go. Please, I won’t tell anyone. Please just—“

Madame Sprout spells a vine to fill Hermione’s mouth, muffling her words. “None of that now, dearie. This is your place now until the seeds are ready to take root. It shouldn’t be more than a week or two, not with the amount of milk you’re producing.”

Hermione’s protests are muffled by the vine within her mouth. When it begins leaking its sweet nectar again, she has no choice but drink, the familiar heat rising once more.

“I can’t wait to show your classmates what a wonderful host you’re being.”

Eye going wide, Hermione shakes her head wildly. No one can see her like this. 

“One hundred to Gryffindor for your wonderful work.” Reaching between Hermione’s legs, Madame Spout caresses Hermione’s exposed clitoris where it stands huge and swollen. 

Hermione moans and jerks like she’s been struck by lightning, body jerking in orgasm, fluid dripping down her thighs. 

“Oh, I’m going to have such fun with you, dearie. You’re the perfect teaching aid.”

When Madame Sprout rubs her swollen belly, Hermione swears she can feel the seeds moving within her. Voices close by startle her, and she raises horrified eyes to the greenhouse door. 

“Looks like our first period students are just about to arrive. Here, let me—” 

The spell Madame Spout casts feels like mouths closing around Hermione’s swollen clitoris and nipples, sucking rhythmically. Milk flows down her body as she shakes, pleasure ratcheting higher. The humiliation of wide-eyed seventh year faces gazing upon her pushes her over the edge again.


End file.
